Playing with Hart
by mckenziemorrow
Summary: Training her whole life, Glimmer Hart unexpectingly is chosen to fight to the death in an arena. A game for the rest of Panem, called the Hunger Games. Step into Glimmer's shoes, through her POV, and learn that she is much more than just a tribute.
1. Tribute Hour

**CHAPTER ONE: TRIBUTE HOUR**

I gulp down a hot cup of coffee, letting the burning drink scorch my throat. I overslept and I'm in a hurry. This was the _wrong_ day to oversleep. I was groggy and my hair was an utter rat's nest. Last night, I was up all night. In bed, my thoughts sped from what it would be like inside the arena and what I should wear.

Indigo and Truffle, my brothers, are eating breakfast beside me. They also have their thoughts elsewhere. Everyone does today. My mother walks in with her hair perfectly arranged, but her cheeks are full of flush.

"It's the big day!" she says. She hugs us long enough before Indigo and Truffle break off, continuing to eat their eggs. "I love you all very much and you've trained hard."

"Mom, you say that every year. This is my last chance. If I am not tribute, I swear I will kill someone."

"Don't make the kill too brutal. The Peacekeepers are busy enough today to clean up a big mess," Truffle jokes. He's a jokester. And Indigo? He is and always has been a person of seriousness.

Indigo rolls his eyes at Truffle's comment. "I've trained hard all my life and I deserve it-especially on my last year." Indigo wants with all his heart (not that he has a heart) to win The Hunger Games.

In contrast, its Truffle's first year in the Hunger Games. And he's much more interested in playing with his friends than training. Indigo always threatens him saying, "If you're picked…you won't be ready…and, you'll die." But that doesn't faze Truffle. He has a heart of steel and makes jokes about death all the time. In fact, I think it's a slight problem he has.

I'm Glimmer Hart. Fifteen years old and I haven't decided if I want to be tribute or not. Then again, it's not much of a choice, now is it? Akin to my brothers, I've been training my whole life as well. Not a day goes by where I don't practice with my bow.

I jerk back into reality as Truffle is annoyingly flicking my head.

"Knock it off or you're dead," I glare at him harshly.

"Yeah, yeah," he waves his hand carelessly, "save it for the arena," and he walks out the door and joins his friends.

"Glimmer! You'll be late! The Harts are never late! Especially to the Reaping!" my mom pushes me out the door.

Anticipating people flood Amethyst Avenue with signs reading, 'May the odds be ever in your favor'. They all push past each other severely and overflow into the Justice building. I see familiar faces as they are all dressed up in their nicest clothes for the special event.

I am always dressed nice. It's…one of the things I love; fashion. Aside from training, I love making new clothes and discovering new fads from the Capitol. Everyone in District One says I'm the prettiest girl to ever walk the planet. I try not to let it get to my head, but when I glance in the mirror, I can't help but be delighted at the reflection.

I tug at my new, yellow lace dress and my naturally curly, blonde hair suddenly feels heavy on my back, as I join the evil sisters, Velvet and Pearl.

"I'm volunteering," Velvet growls at her sister.

"Not if the tribute _wants _to be the tribute." Pearl shrugged.

"No," says Velvet. "I am the tribute of the 74th Hunger Games."

"I'm sorry, but I am," I inquire. She gives me a harsh look and then continues talking to Pearl. If not Indigo, I'd say Velvet and Pearl are the most driven to be in the Hunger Games. It's all they talk about….all year round.

My best friend, Roselyn, stops me and gives me a small hug. She eyes Pearl and Velvet and then looks back at me. Her auburn hair has a good number of different flowers in it, all contributing to the color wildness of her remarkable dress.

"Glimmer Hart, best friend for life, may the odds be ever in your favor." she says. Her sapphire eyes give a hopeful glow in them.

"Same to you..." my voice trails off and we look up to the large stage as the Reaping starts.

Opal Evenings makes her way up to the stage, looking completely different from last year. Her skin is a light shade of purple and her black hair, in various braids and ponytails, has a hint of topaz in it. Though she is beautiful, she has a slight-actually, it's quite immense-difficulty with talking rather to a great extent. She never can be done with a thought.

As she walks up to the stage, it seems as though Opal makes eye contact with me. "Hello, all!" she smiles, "another glorious morning in District One!"

We all cheer.

"I am nearly jumping up and down for the Games to begin. I have already chosen my hair color- blood red. Now, now, it's not too frightening, it's-" she rambles on and on, as usual, while I look closely at how many kids there are-much more than last year.

"Odds are...one of you-or two of you-will die." she says bluntly, yet...joyfully. "I am hoping that you will use your last few days alive wisely. Train hard, eat, sleep, and make memories. Enjoy life...and don't forget to look as beautiful as me!" she says, admiring her navy nails. "Anyway, for the female tribute," she hums a familiar tune as she swishes her hand around the large glass bow. I am so eager; it makes me annoyed that she is taking such a while. When she finally picks a paper, she smiles as she elegantly unfolds it.

Roselyn, always beaming, gives a weak smile beside me and Pearl and Velvet seem as though they aren't breathing, still as stones. I should be still too, but I glance around and look at all the children. Diamond-May, the most sensitive girl you'd ever meet, begins to sniffle. This is completely normal to me and the rest of the crowd, for she cries annually ever year.

"Ah!" Opal says.

Silence. Deathly silence and deathly anticipation.

"For the female tribute of District one, we have...Glimmer Hart!"

Glimmer Hart. It takes me a minute to process the name. Oh, that's me...and it stings. I manage to smile and say, "I've been training hard!" as I make my way to the stage. Everyone is staring at me, some relived, but most jealous.

Opal giggles bitterly after she announces my name and her words become vague and barely audible as I block out all of District One and close my eyes.

"Brilliant Starre!" she giggles again. _Will you stop giggling?_ I think to myself. Usually I don't mind Opal, but at this moment, she is more irritating than ever.

A lanky, yet muscular looking boy, apparently being Brilliant, looks around. I haven't seen him much around the district, and people say he's as shy as a mouse and trains only twice a week. Ah, an easy target. Pearl and Velvet roll their eyes, wishing _they_ could volunteer as male tribute. A couple people laugh at the sight of Brilliant being tribute.

Indigo! This is the moment he can volenteer! I find him in the crowd with a smirk on his face, realizing this is his time to shine and be tribute. He steps forward and begins-

"I volunteer!" a voice comes from the back of the crowd. Marvel Sparks makes his way up to the stage and I catch Brilliant sneaking in a sigh of relief. He pulls out a comb and combs his hair to the side again. I chuckle to myself then focus on what is going on.

Marvel Sparks, a tall boy-that hardly looks like a boy- takes his place next to me on the stage. His short red hair reveals his large forehead and bug eyes. He's strong...trains every day. _This _is my target. Oh, how I wish he didn't volunteer.

When I stop thinking of Marvel, I catch a glance of Truffle, indifferently staring at me with his chocolate brown eyes. It's his first year and his own sister is tribute. Indigo stands near him, shaking his head at me. He's furious. He looks at Marvel and makes a fist...then walks away.


	2. Friends and Fame

**CHAPTER TWO: FRIENDS AND FAME**

We have a few hours until we leave on the train. A few hours to prepare. I think of whatever all the other tributes are doing right now. Either crying or thrilled, but whatever they do won't change what's going to happen. I know from experience. Unfortunate things have been occurring in my life ever since I was born. And I've learned not to cry. Crying doesn't change anything and however much you cry about it, it still happened.

Indigo has been ignoring me most of the time since the reaping. Truffle has been acting a bit nicer and so has my mom. I don't want pity or sympathy though. I am glad that Roselyn has been treating me the same-she's the best friend anyone could have.

All of a sudden, a knock came at the door. I ran up the few steps from the family room, past the kitchen and the dining room, to the front door. Our house is painted bright orange, a popular color for decorating in District One. We get our trends from the Capital; although the fad will most likely change to hot pink anytime soon and I will beg my mom to repaint it.

I open the door and Roselyn stands there with a small white box. Her big eyes squint as she smiles and greets me. I invite her in and we trot up the stairs to my room.

"Since it's your last few hours in District One…well, until you win," she gives a bitter laugh. "I wanted to give you a present. So, that you'll remember me, and your family, the people that love you back home. Don't forget us. And don't forget to win, okay?"

"Okay," I can hardly make myself speak.

She opens the box, revealing a green tourmaline gem ring that twists into a spike.

"It was my aunt Cashmere's," she explains. Roselyn Shadowlane's aunt and uncle have both won the Hunger Games, ironically. She lives with her aunt Cashmere and her baby sister, Marshy, in Victor Village. "Wear it in the Games for good luck," she says seriously. "To kick some butt." She jokingly adds.

I giggle and place it on my finger and marvel at the beauty of the ring.

"It's beautiful," I breathe. I look closely at what it says around the band. 'May the odds be ever in your favor'. "Thank you," I give her a small hug, and then try to escape this sentimental moment. I'm not one of sappy things. She knows this, so we both release and sit there awkwardly until I speak up.  
"Now, do my hair so I'll look gorgeous for the cameras." I order.

Roselyn grabs some pins and puts my thick, blonde tresses into an elegant bun. We talk, laugh and enjoy our last few hours together as best friends. I dress in another extravagant dress, embroidered with gold sequins and lacy gold all over.

"You're to die for," Roselyn comments when we are finished.

I'm used to this comment, but I roll my eyes modestly and show my gratitude.

We walk outside and cameras are hovering over us and microphones go in my face, as if I have won the Hunger Games or something. This glory I could get used to.

"Glimmer Hart, people say that you're one of the strongest tributes. Tell us-what's your specialty weapon?" a reporter asks.

"I don't want to give any information out...for you fellow listeners," I say looking at the cameras. "But, I am pretty good with just about anything."

"All of Panem is raving how you are very gorgeous. Your emerald eyes are utterly stunning…and how do you get your hair that luscious?"

I give an airy laugh.

"My colleague here, Roselyn," I start as I give her a faint hug, which of course turns out being a bit awkward, since she's much shorter than me. But, she's just standing here smiling, encouraging me on, so I wanted to include her. "She helps me a great deal, but I am very fond of fashion to start with. Thank you, Capitol for your inspiration!" I flash a smile and then a devious look for the cameras. "Panem, prepare to meet your Victor, Glimmer Hart."


	3. Silent Threat

**CHAPTER THREE: SILENT THREAT**

I am sitting on the train right now with Marvel sitting across from me, staring. We live the closest to the Capital, so it only takes about four hours. The train is decorated in hot pink from the Capital. As I expected...fad as already changed.

"Will you stop staring at me?" I say bitterly

He just chuckles and then looks out the window.

Opal enters into the room by an automatic door. Her hair is assembled in curls rising atop of her head, almost to the ceiling. She is holding a clipboard and wearing some sort of dress, I think. If it is, it is revealing much more than is to be revealed. Definitely Capital made.

"Well, good afternoon! This has been quite a week has it been? Preparing for the Reaping, being chosen for the Reaping, going on a train to-"

"Okay, okay. What'd you come in here for?" Marvel asks, stopping her before she starts talking about some other irrelevant subject.

"I see we have some attitude on this train...I like it!" she looks at Marvel "Very good for the arena,"

He smirks at me then looks down.

"We have some special requests to train today. We have hit an unexpected place, so we will have to go around. The train ride will be an extra day. Due to that fact, there will be some training on this travel. Sign up on this clipboard what you would like to train for."

I grab the clipboard before Marvel can reach and write down bows and arrows then hand the paper to Opal. Marvel writes his on a separate piece of paper.

"Thank you," she says examining the papers. "Ah, finally some different things from last year!"

I think of what Marvel's could possibly be. I have heard he's decent at wrestling, but he only trains by himself. You rent certain rooms in the training center. I suddenly recall a memory of Marvel in the eighth grade. (He is actually a year older than me, but he was held back).

It was the fall of eighth grade-two years ago. Marvel was known as the trainer, next to Indigo, my brother. They used to be friends, training together. Now that I think of it, I wish I had collected some information about Marvel from Indigo while I could.

Anyway, Bleu O'Collins and Marvel were the worst enemies. Bleu was aggravating Marvel in once day in the cafeteria. All of the Peace Keepers were gone to who- knows-where, probably slacking on their job like they always do. Marvel took that chance to do what he had always wanted to do.

Bleu was harassing him and teasing him about his red hair. It has grown to a russet color, but it used to be carrot red. Marvel has a fiery temper and can be a bit outspoken sometimes, so that day, when he had had enough of Bleu, he threw a fork-perfect aim-directly at Bleu's head. Sending Bleu to the ground, bleeding. Peace Keepers arrived and investigated the scene. Everyone has been afraid of Marvel ever since and his display of his knack of throwing things.

Throwing things. _That's _his specialty. I have seen him place spear heads into his backpack for after school training. How did I forget that? He is definitely going to train for spear-throwing.

"Alright, I will come back and tell you when the training will be ready." Opal giggles as she walks out of our main sitting room.

"What did you sign up for?" Marvel asks.

"None of your business," I answer.

"I signed up for tying knots. A lot of survival stuff," he shrugged. "Now you go."

"Sword fighting," I lied. He lied too, so why can't I?

"Sword fighting, eh? That's not at all different from last year. Both tributes trained in sword fighting." Marvel said, out –smartening me. I should have known he would make me sound stupid.

"Well, m-maybe I don't want to tell you." My eyes hurt from staring him down so I finally blinked and looked out the window, pretending to be interested on what was outside. The train was going fast, so everything was exceedingly blurry, but I still gazed.

"Well, m-maybe we'll be allies," he mimicked my tone and my nervous stutter.

"Allies? You?" I laughed. "You'll be dead in the first hour."

"I'm not scared of you, Glimmer. I'm not scared of anything." After he's done his bold statement, he laughs bitterly and positions his hands behind his head, reclining on the seat.

He _will _be dead. He will.

And I end my thoughts as he leaves and closes the door behind him.


	4. Introducing, Brelen

**CHAPTER FOUR: INTRODUCING, BRELEN**

_ I'm not scared of you, Glimmer._

His words sting the back of my head almost as much as Opal Evenings calling my name for the Reaping. I don't understand, really. I try to decipher the meaning behind that remark. Is he trying to make me scared of _him? _ Is he just stating his opinion in a non-offensive way? Is he giving me a hint that I am dead meat in the arena?

I don't know.

But what I do know is that I have to train hard, work hard so he _is _scared of me. That his spear-throwing doesn't compare to my perfect aimed arrows.

My thoughts are interrupted by a tall man, who walks into my room without knocking. His dark hair is shaggy, divulging a much needed visit to the barber. His suit is nice-Capital material-but very furrowed. His eyes make you, in an instance, wish that you could stare at them and try to figure out what color they actually are.

"The name's Brelen," he says. I stare, so he clears his throat and continues. "And I am your mentor for the Hunger Games, unfortunately."

Brelen Staples. I make the connection inside my head and realize that this man was the victor when he was seventeen years old, a few years after Roselyn's aunt Cashmere won. He looks different from the dashing seventeen-year-old I have seen in pictures and videos, but you can still see that they are indeed the same person.

"Of course," I finally say. "My name is Glimmer Hart." I extend my hand.

He stares at it for a while then puts his hands behind his back.

"Let me start off our relationship by saying that we are not friends. We never will be…friends. I am simply here to mentor you and tell you that the arena is hell. I am excited for the entertainment it will be, on my part, however. On your part, I am terribly sorry, but if they chose the mentor based off of encouragement, they shouldn't have chosen me."

How nice. They have picked a mentor with a bad attitude for me and Marvel. Speaking of Marvel, he walks in just in time to meet his mentor.

"I am here only because of you, Mr. Staples." He says dryly.

"Call me Brelen," he says shortly. "We have much to talk about. First off, I am sorry for you two kids, probably dying in the arena by next week."

"We are Careers. We don't die. I'm winning this year…I am." Marvel says stubbornly, and then shoots a much scheming face my direction. "All this training and interview practicing my mom has forced upon me will not be used for nothing."

"What about you?" Brelen asks me, ignoring Marvel's usual rude comments. He lifts his eyebrows, listening for my response.

"Well," I smile. "Truthfully, I am _flattered_ to be here. In the Capital? Why, what a dream come true. The arena…" my eyes grow big enthusiastically. "…another dream-anyways, let's just say that this is the best thing that's ever happened in my…unfortunate life." Even though most of my life has been great, I try to beat Marvel's comment. Then I crack a cheesy joke and I see a smile crawl onto Brelen's face for the first time.

"I may like you," Brelen says. "If I like you, then that means the people will _definitely _like you. And _that_ means sponsors. But then again, sponsors aren't the main thing. The main thing is to kill off as many people as you can, form a Career group maybe…kill everyone else and then kill each other. That's all the advice for now. All of this…mentoring makes my head hurt." And with that, he grabs a brownie from my food table and leaves.

"Sponsors…allies…that's some good advice," Marvel shrugs. "But I have better ideas," He heads for the door, but I stop him.

"Like what?"

"Like not letting you know them." And he leaves.

I collapse on the couch, awfully tired, and turn on the TV. They are doing a re-cap of the Reapings and guessing who they think would win.

"Well, let's take a look at District Two's tributes," says the reporter.

It shows two people on the screen now. There's a cute (I mean _really_ cute) tall guy with blonde hair and intense eyes. And then there's a shorter dark-haired girl with freckles. Cato and Clove, they are labeled and they look strong and powerful. Not to mention Cato looks _very_ attractive in his District Two uniform. Maybe they'd make good allies. Maybe Brelen was right and Marvel was wrong.


End file.
